A Girl Called Blue (4 page)

They had cups of tea and a slice of sweet madeira cake after.

‘Did you make this cake yourself, Mrs Maguire?’ she finally managed to ask. Every head at the table turned towards her.

‘Of course I did, dear,’ she replied.

‘It’s just that it tastes really …’

Blue searched for the word. They never got cakes or sweet things in Larch Hill so she was not used to the lightness of the sponge or the sweetness of the taste. The nuns did not believe in treats or spoiling.

‘… beautiful.’

Mrs Maguire smiled. ‘Thank you, Bernadette. It’s nice of you to say so.’

Paddy looked over and stuck his tongue out at her.

When they had all finished eating, Blue and Mrs Maguire cleaned and washed up as the rest of the family sat in silence and watched the small black and white TV in the sitting room. Blue felt strange and awkward. Frank disappeared off after a while to visit a friend, and shortly afterwards Mr Maguire put on his hat and coat and said he was needed down at Ryans’.

‘He’s off to the local,’ sighed Mrs Maguire. ‘Ryans own the Quarry Inn, about a mile down the road.’

The two other boys began to play cards and Blue hoped she’d be invited to join in, but the brothers ignored her, so she was left watching the television. Mrs Maguire was glued to Gay Byrne on ‘The Late Late Show’, but Blue quickly became bored.

By ten o’clock she was yawning and was relieved when Mrs Maguire said to her, ‘You’ve had a long day, dear. Run off to bed and we’ll see you in the morning.’

The small bedroom was chilly and damp, and Blue wished she had more than her flannel nightdress to sleep in. She washed and changed and climbed into the narrow bed. Automatically she said her night prayers, naming off her list of friends in Larch Hill and her unknown mother, then adding the Maguires’ names as an afterthought. She sat up in bed wondering if Mrs Maguire would come up and say goodnight to her, but after twenty minutes or so she gave up and pulled the blankets and bedspread around her in an effort to get warm. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning she eventually slept, unused to the quiet of the room.

The next morning the family rose early and drove to Sunday mass. Blue looked around the small, grey stone parish church with its stained glass Stations of the Cross and huge statues of St Patrick and Our Lady, aware that she was the subject of much curiosity. The other church-goers looked friendly, but they were very reserved and merely nodded in her direction as a greeting.

When they got back to the farm, they all had a quick breakfast and then Mr Maguire and the boys attended the animals while Blue washed up before starting into the Sunday lunch with Mrs Maguire. She longed to go out and play in the fresh air, to run
around and explore or go and see how Bonnie and the rest of the piglets were doing, but Mrs Maguire wouldn’t let her off on her own.

‘You’ve got to stay where I can keep a good eye on you, Bernadette. A good eye.’

Mr Maguire fell asleep reading the paper after their big lunch of roast mutton. His snores filled the downstairs and Blue politely tried not to laugh. At three o’clock he got out his car keys, ready to drive her back to town.

‘Thank you for inviting me to your home,’ said Blue. She hoped that one of the boys would come along for the ride to keep her company, but they just ignored her.

Mrs Maguire fussed about, buttoning up Blue’s coat, then ran into the kitchen for a paper bag containing half a dozen scones.

‘Bernadette, share them with your friends,’ she offered, as they walked to the door. ‘And I do hope you’ll visit us again.’

Mr Maguire concentrated on driving and listening to the car radio the whole way back. He didn’t say a word, and Blue just stared out the window, watching fields gradually turn into city streets again.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely as they pulled up in the driveway of Larch Hill.

‘You’re welcome, girl, welcome, if that’s what the Missus wants.’

She said goodbye and clambered up the steps, waving to Mr Maguire as the car moved off.

‘I’ll collect you next weekend,’ was all he said.

All the girls quizzed her that night about the visit. Blue sat on the bed and told them all about the cute little piglets and the cows and the three boys. She didn’t bother to mention the disappointment of the shabby house and small bedroom, and the woman who smoked cigarettes one after another.

Over the next two weekends Blue found herself making up more and more stories about the family. ‘I played football in the fields with the boys on Sunday, and Paddy, the youngest, was crying when it was time for me to leave and come back here,’ she boasted.

The others stared at her enviously and she felt slightly ashamed of what she was doing, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had the girls’ attention and went on to tell even more lies about the wonderful Maguire family, making them sound almost like saints.

Blue wondered how she had got herself into such a mess. She was making up things about a family she barely knew, people she didn’t really care about, about boys who were cold and mean to her, but once she had started the lies just kept getting bigger and more outrageous.

Sister Monica stopped her in the corridor after mass one Sunday to talk to her. ‘Bernadette, I’m delighted to hear that you have found a good family to take you under their wing.’

Blue said nothing, not trusting herself to speak, knowing full well that Sister Monica could see right through her, those inquisitive monkey-like brown eyes searching her face and quickly getting to the truth.

‘The orphans have got lice in their hair,’ Jackie Thomas told everyone in school one Wednesday morning. ‘My Mammy says they must have passed them on to us.’

‘Girls, will you tell Sister Carmel and Sister Agnes to check the heads of all the children in Larch Hill please,’ sighed Blue’s teacher, Mrs Brady, ‘and that goes for everybody else in the class too.’

Blue sat at the desk, feeling ashamed, as the other girls who lived in the houses and estates near the primary school sniggered and jeered at them.

‘It’s not fair,’ she complained to Mary and Lil at lunchtime. ‘Jackie’s the one with nits and now she’s trying to blame us for giving them to her. I don’t have lice. I know I don’t.’

The message was passed on and that evening Sister Carmel inspected a few of their heads before they went to bed, using a tiny comb to search for the insects. Mary had them, and so did Jess and Lil and little Molly, the horrible creatures being passed from one to another. Sister Regina was informed, and Nurse Griffin was asked to order in bottles of special shampoo and anti-lice treatment.

‘I can’t understand it,’ Sister Carmel declared. ‘They were all
treated not long ago and now they’re infested again. Someone from outside must have re-introduced the creatures here.’

The girls said nothing. Sarah Murphy, a new girl who had arrived only two weeks before, blushed with embarrassment. Sarah and her sister had been placed in the institution following their alcoholic father’s violent attack on their mother, who was still recovering in hospital. Poor Sarah. She was the prettiest girl they’d ever seen, with long blond hair down to her waist, a perfect, heart-shaped face and beautiful blue eyes. Tall and thin, she looked like an angel. At night she said prayers for her mother, hoping she would come and get them soon so they could be a family again. She refused to talk about her father or even mention his name.

They were all kept back from school the next morning and were instructed to line up at the basins in the washrooms so that their hair could be soaked in the de-lousing solution. It smelled awful. Sister Carmel and Sister Agnes and the nurse ignored the children’s protests as they applied the stinging, rotten stuff that made them cough and their eyes water. Everyone from babies upwards had to get treated with the foul, smelly lotion that made your scalp burn.

‘That should definitely knock them dead,’ joked Mary. ‘That smell is enough to kill anything!’

If that wasn’t bad enough the nuns then combed all their heads with fine combs that tugged and pulled at their hair, to get rid of the insects and their tiny white eggs. Some of the older girls helped with the little ones, who bawled and howled and rubbed their eyes and tried to run away from the torture.

Little Tommy Doyle kicked and screamed like the other boys
his age, but, somehow, Mary managed to coax him into letting her do his hair, taking the comb from Sister Agnes and getting him to sit quietly on her lap. She was like a little mother, thought Blue, the way she was constantly on the look-out for her young brother, the way she talked soothingly to him and took care of him.

‘I promised my Mammy I’d look after him, and as God is my judge that’s what I’ll always try to do. He’s the only family I have.’

They were so alike, with the same eyes and slightly flat, button noses and cheeky faces, Tommy’s sticking-up hair a stronger ginger colour than his sister’s. Blue wished that she had a brother or sister, someone who looked just like her.

‘I don’t know what I’ll do when Tommy has to leave here,’ Mary would say. ‘How will he manage without me to keep an eye out for him?’

Every year Blue and Lil had consoled her with the fact that her brother was still too young to leave Larch Hill, but now Tommy was nearly seven and a half and growing out of his grey shorts and grey jumper. They all knew he would have to leave soon and go to a home for older boys.

Blue blinked, the lotion stinging her eyes as she watched Sister Carmel clipping the boys’ hair. The boys squirmed and jiggled and were not at all cooperative.

Then Sister Agnes took the scissors and began to call the girls up.

‘Sarah Murphy,’ she said loudly.

Sarah went red with embarrassment as she walked up and sat in the chair.

‘Please, Sister, don’t touch my hair,’ she begged. ‘My mammy loves my hair. She brushes it every night.’

‘Well, your mammy’s not here and you are infested. Your hair is far too long and is covered in nits. We’d never comb them all out.’

‘I’ll comb it, Sister, honest I will. You can check it afterwards.’

‘We have too much to be doing to attend to checking your hair. It’s unhygienic.’ The nun lifted the scissors.

‘No!’ screamed Sarah. ‘Leave my hair alone. Don’t cut it!’ She was trying to jump up off the seat and run away, but the nun held her down.

‘You will do as you’re told,’ Sister Agnes insisted, the scissors cutting straight through the beautiful blond hair.

There was absolute silence. Even the boys stopped their ructions as Sister Agnes snipped away, the silky lengths of hair falling to the floor. Sarah froze in shock, unable to say a word, not even blinking as her hair was cut savagely and unevenly to the level of her ears. They all watched open-mouthed. Blue stood up and stepped forward, desperately wanting to put an end to what the nun was doing.

‘Bernadette O’Malley, what is it?’ asked the nun, glaring at her challengingly.

Blue wished she was brave enough to kick and punch the nun and drag Sarah away from what was happening but instead she remained silent, anger burning deep inside her.

‘Sit back down, you’ll have your turn in a few minutes.’

At last it was over. As Sarah stood up a strange sound came from
deep within her. Her little sister ran forward to hug her. As she walked towards the back of the hall Blue thought that Sarah with her chopped hair looked more beautiful than ever.

Blue combed through her own hair, then watched two tiny brown lice wriggle and squirm on the comb. Ugh! They were disgusting. She took a hanky from her pocket and dropped them onto it; a few minutes later another six had joined them. She studied their legs and heads closely, before wrapping them up carefully in the hanky.

The whole institution smelled to high heaven. In the upstairs dormitories every bed and cot had to be stripped, the sheets and pillowcases brought down to the laundry for washing and every bed remade with clean linen. The older girls made the beds for the little ones, but Blue didn’t know how anyone was going to get a wink of sleep with the awful smell that was coming from their hair.

The next morning Blue made sure to get to the chapel early. She managed to get a seat in the row right behind the nuns, their heads bent in concentration and prayer. Jess looked at her, puzzled as to why she had chosen such a position when they usually tried to sit at the back. Blue knelt, head down, elbows on the wooden rail, eyes closed, praying. She only had a few minutes but, timing it perfectly, she took out her hanky to blow her nose as Sister Agnes sat up on the seat to listen to the gospel. Blue nonchalantly placed her elbows and arms on the front of the bench; then, opening the pink hanky, she saw the lice still moving. She leant forward and managed to place them gently on top of Sister Agnes’s black veil, where they stayed still for a few seconds. Two of them began to
make for the trace of brown hair that peeped through the white edging of the veil; the others were obviously dead and rolled down off the nun’s habit and fell beneath the bench.

Blue sat up and prayed. She thought of Sarah and her little sister, and prayed that God would do the fair thing and let Sister Agnes experience a little infestation of her own.

The next Saturday morning Mr Maguire collected her as usual. ‘Been raining non-stop for the past three days,’ he observed as they drove through Blessington. ‘But looks like it’s drying up nicely.’

Blue looked at the soft white clouds in the clear sky and prayed for sunny weather.

‘I’ll drop you off at the house and be back in a few minutes,’ he muttered, driving off down the road.

She was about to knock at the front door but, realising her shoes were muddy, went around to the back door instead.

The side window was open and she could hear the hum of voices from the kitchen.

‘Mammy, does the orphan girl have to come again today?’ complained Paddy.

‘She’s here every weekend!’ added Frank.

‘Bernadette is a good worker,’ answered their mother, ‘able to cook and clean and work like a girl almost twice her age. Your father and I were lucky to discover her.’

‘But why does she keep having to come and stay here?’ protested the youngest boy. 

‘When she gets her holidays she’ll be coming to stay with us for the rest of the summer and if things work out she might even come to live with us for good,’ answered their mother.

‘Nah!’

‘No!’

‘Listen, I’m not getting any younger and I need someone to give me a hand. Bernadette is happy to have a roof over her head and to be living with a respectable family who will give her a home. In return for us taking her in she will work for her keep.’

Blue swallowed hard. She knew some of the girls went to work with families or in the big hotels and guesthouses in the city when they left Larch Hill. But they were older than her and they got paid. She wasn’t even thirteen yet and she was still at school. She hadn’t even thought of work yet! And nobody said anything at all nice about her.

Her mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts as she knocked, then pushed in the back door.

Mrs Maguire jumped up guiltily to greet her. ‘Oh, Bernadette! I didn’t hear you. You got your hair cut!’

Blue blushed, not wanting to tell her why.

‘I think it’s nicer longer, but I suppose it’ll grow back quick enough.’

Blue tried to smile and pretend it didn’t matter.

‘Anyway it’s good to have you here, Bernadette. There’s a bit of washing to do now that it’s got dry again, and I was hoping you’d give me a hand with the oven. It needs cleaning. If my back wasn’t so bad I’d manage it on my own, but you know how hard it is to
reach into the back of the oven when you’re kneeling on the floor.’

Blue tried to hide her dismay at the greasy job awaiting her, but consoled herself that these were normal family jobs – what could you expect if you were part of a hardworking, farming family? Her hopes of freedom and fun and playing in the enticing stream at the bottom of the Maguires’ field were dashed once again as she rolled up her sleeves and set to work.

Mrs Maguire came in and to check on her. She stood and watched, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the kitchen sink.

‘Bernadette, I have to give it to you, dear, you’re a fine little worker. Those nuns have reared you well. We’re blessed with you.’

Blue grinned, wiping her forehead. Nobody had ever said before that they were blessed with her. Nobody.

‘It’s a grand day for the match,’ Mr Maguire boomed, arriving home and coming into the kitchen.

‘What time is it starting?’ asked Paddy.

‘Three o’clock. We’ll be there in good time.’

Hope filled Blue’s heart at the thought of a family outing.

‘Ted and the boys are going to watch the local side play against a team from Croom in Limerick,’ smiled Mrs Maguire. ‘With the men out of the house it’ll give us a chance to get a bit of proper cleaning done.’

Blue blinked. She wanted to go to the match too instead of being stuck here cleaning and washing. ‘I’d love to see the match,’ she murmured.

Mr Maguire’s eyes looked puzzled, and the boys looked jealous as they all exclaimed in unison, ‘No!’

‘Hurling isn’t for women,’ Mrs Maguire explained. ‘Especially not for girls like yourself.’

Blue was angry and resentful as Mrs Maguire waved the others off after lunch.

The boy’s bedrooms were like pigsties. Mrs Maguire had decided, with the good early summer drying weather, to change all their beds. When the beds were stripped, Mrs Maguire told Blue to brush and then wash the lino in each bedroom. In no time the sweat was rolling off her. The only bedroom that was left untouched was her own.

‘You can do that yourself another day,’ suggested the woman.

Eventually the washing line was filled with top sheets and under-sheets and pillowcases, and heavy candlewick and sateen bed covers that flapped lazily in the breeze.

‘I’m exhausted,’ yawned Mrs Maguire. ‘I think I’ll put my feet up for a while to try and get my energy back.’

Blue hoped she might let her off to play for the rest of the afternoon, but again she was disappointed.

‘With the sun shining in, you can really see just how dirty the insides of those bedroom windows have become. Be a good girl and give them a bit of a clean.’

This is as bad as scrub day! thought Blue as she raced through the work, barely wiping the windowpanes with a cloth and water and giving them the quickest polish ever. Finally finished, she looked in on Mrs Maguire who was fast asleep in the chair, her mouth open. Blue smirked. Now she could go outside.

The sound of the piglets in the pen attracted her and she
decided to see how they were doing. Cows were nice enough she supposed, but pigs were far more interesting.

The yard was muddy and she was glad she’d slipped on Dermot’s old boots. The pigs squealed a welcome, all running towards her looking for food. Even in a few weeks they had got much bigger, their pink bodies squirming around each other, curly tails in the air.

‘You little pets,’ she laughed, running over to them. She leaned down to scratch their backs and snouts as they all fought for attention. There was no sign of their mother.

‘Where’s my girl Bonnie? Where are you?’

As if understanding her words, one of the little pigs stood smelling the air, looking up at her.

She just wanted to scoop the piglets up in her arms and play with them for a few minutes. Lifting the ring around the pen gate, she let herself in. They all rushed to her curiously and she lifted them up and tickled them. She must think of names for them all, she decided, especially now they were getting bigger. She had the smallest one in her arms, scratching its belly, when she heard a loud squeal and saw the sow wake up in the corner and get to her feet.

Maybe she’d attack her for playing with her babies! Blue turned in an instant to run back out of the pigsty as the sow lumbered threateningly towards her. She rammed the gate shut behind her, realising too late that some of the piglets had squeezed past her and were out in the yard running around.

Oh my God! What would she do? Maybe she should shout to Mrs Maguire for help? No, she decided, it would be better if she
could just catch them herself and pop them back in the pen. Then no one would know what had happened.

They were all around her and she moved slowly, not wanting to scare them or make them nervous. The smallest piglet was only about two feet away from her, snuffling at a piece of stale bread and some potato peelings that had fallen from the slop bucket. Blue moved in slowly, making no noise, and with a sudden swoop of her arm had the tiniest piglet caught and lifted back in the pen in a matter of seconds. The piglet looked around from side to side, perplexed by its change of location.

Blue scanned the yard. She could still see the other three. Two were making for the milking parlour, trotting quickly, perhaps lured by the smell of milk. If they got into the parlour they could destroy it. She had to try and corner them. She tiptoed after them as they zigzagged and squealed, holding their snouts high with curiosity. Blue was getting closer as they went in through the open door of the milking parlour, sniffing at one milk pail and then another. She noticed one pail with an inch of creamy milk at the bottom. She crept over, tipped it on to its side and stood back to wait. The piglets put their quivering snouts up in the air, sniffing. God, please let them come! In a flurry the two piglets ran in her direction, one heading straight for the milk, snout down. He was half in the bucket when she nabbed him. She held him firmly as he squirmed and wriggled and squealed, trying to get away from her. His sister took off, careering madly out the door and across the yard. Blue struggled to hold on to him, almost dropping him in the yard, but managed to deposit him back into the safety of the pen.
Then she turned around, catching a glimpse of pig flesh over by the house. She’d never catch this one, which was trotting like a racehorse towards the kitchen door, its two ears flapping in the slight breeze.

Blue made a low, squealy, piggy sound. Confused, the piglet turned around. She approached it head-on and the pig stood, uncertain, as it contemplated which direction to turn. Blue moved closer. The piglet tried to make a quick dash for it between her legs, and Blue flung herself on the ground, almost flattening the poor animal as she reached out and grabbed hold of one of its hind legs. It fought back, ramming at her with its snout, but she held firm, wrapping her two arms around it, trying to soothe and calm the animal by talking to it. ‘This little piggy went to market … this little piggy stayed at home …’ She almost threw it back on top of the sow, who was sniffing around, searching for it. Phew! They were all back in the pig pen.

No, they weren’t! Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a pink flash heading across the fields into the distance towards the old oak wood. Oh no! She just knew it was Bonnie. The little pig was heading for freedom. Mr and Mrs Maguire would kill her!

Blue ran like a crazy person across the fields after the piglet. But Bonnie disappeared into the shadows of the wood. Blue would have to go in after her.

She squinted in the sudden darkness. The trees were huge, taller than any she had ever seen, stretching up to the sky like giant fingers. Their trunks were gnarled and patterned, each one different from the other, hundreds of years of history etched into their barks. 

She searched around for the piglet, growing more desperate by the minute. Then she heard a scuffling sound to her right. She held her breath and crept around the base of a huge tree. It was Bonnie. The piglet was snuffling eagerly at an acorn, which it tossed around before swallowing it. Blue padded softly over, not daring to breathe, trying to take it by surprise. Both of them were startled by the sudden harsh caw of a huge crow that flapped its wings noisily and flew from the branches above them. The piglet darted off once again through the undergrowth. Blue picked up a handful of acorns and shoved them in her pocket, as she patiently began to follow again.

She watched as the small pig ran hither and thither, totally lost and bewildered in this strange environment. She was losing track of time and direction as she ran after it. Eventually, tired and thirsty, she had to stop. She took out the acorns and threw them on the ground, then sat, feeling tears form behind her eyes. She almost cried with joy then the little pink body came back into view, ears cocked, snout up, as it approached the tempting pile of nuts. Ignoring Blue, it began to snuffle and eat. Blue held her breath. Warm from running, she had taken off her cardigan, and now, without making any sudden movement, she dropped it down on to the piglet before throwing herself onto the moving bundle and grabbing it.

‘Caught you! Caught you, Bonnie.’ She laughed aloud, struggling to hold on to the squirming piglet who squealed loudly in protest as she wrapped it tightly in the cardigan. ‘Time to go home!’

The wood was darkening as the sunlight began to disappear, and she realised that Mrs Maguire would be looking for her by now. She ran as fast as she could with the piglet wrapped in her arms, her feet thumping on the mossy carpet of the wood. She dashed back through the fields, panting, her breath catching in her throat as she ran. It was so dark she could hardly see. Her clothes were torn. She was filthy, but at least she’d caught Bonnie. Her heart sank as she stepped into the yard and saw that all the lights in the house were on.

‘So, you decided to come back!’ Mrs Maguire stood over her, her cheeks livid with two patches of red. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry. I didn’t know what to do. Call the orphanage? Tell the Guards you were missing? Tell them someone stole one of our prize pigs? Ted and the boys have been searching all over for you. Where were you?’

Blue wished a hole in the ground would open up and swallow her.

‘The pig escaped. I had to try and catch her, get her back. She went into the woods.’

‘You never asked my permission to go off.’

‘I’m sorry. You were asleep and I just wanted to catch Bonnie.’

At the mention of her name the piglet began to struggle again. She squealed and wriggled so much that Blue had difficulty keeping hold of her and lowering her into the pig pen. The big sow created a right rumpus as they were reunited.

‘Totally irresponsible, that’s what I’d call it, to run off and disappear and not say a word to anyone,’ Mrs Maguire continued.
Her hard, thin face was taut with anger, the skin stretched across her cheekbones, her blue eyes cold and glaring.

‘I lost track of the time. I’m so sorry, Mrs Maguire, I didn’t realise when I was chasing Bonnie how late it was or that it was getting dark and that you would be worried.’

‘Bonnie!’ She harrumphed. ‘Tell me, how did the piglet get to be out of her pen?’

Blue gave a silent sigh of relief that she had managed to get the other three back in the pen without anyone knowing they’d escaped, but there was no escaping this time.

‘I was playing with her,’ she admitted honestly.

‘Wait till Ted hears about this,’ Mrs Maguire said tersely, turning back towards the house.

Mrs Maguire didn’t soften or relent, and when the others returned she broke into a tirade against Blue, saying how ungrateful she was for their kindness.